Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The stadium erupted.
Everyone held their heads in disbelief, staring at the field.
Even the fans of Zrinjski Mostar looked stunned.
They had actually conceded the first goal against a second-tier team?
And looking at the match as a whole, their opponents had performed exceptionally well.
Even though Zrinjski Mostar fielded a second-string lineup, the difference in strength should still have been significant!
But regardless, that brilliant goal gave the underdogs a massive morale boost.
Some fans even began shouting bold claims like "Let's win this match!" Clearly, that goal had fired them up.
As for Zrinjski Mostar fans, they couldn't accept this early goal.
They were furious at their team's sloppy defense.
At that moment, Suke ran toward the stands where Zrinjski fans were seated.
"If you think I played well, how about some applause?"
Suke called out cheerfully, turning to show the name on the back of his shirt.
The fans of Zrinjski Mostar looked at the boy with complicated expressions. If it had been anyone else, they would've started hurling insults already.
But they had seen how hard this kid had worked all match.
Truthfully, he was the biggest contributor to that goal, so asking for applause wasn't unreasonable.
Still, they didn't feel like clapping. So they pretended not to see him.
Seeing no reaction from the crowd, Suke walked away, disappointed.
"Not even a round of applause," he muttered.
Mlinar walked up and grumbled, "They didn't cuss you out—consider that their way of showing respect."
He had to admire Suke's boldness. If this had been in front of some die-hard fans, Suke might've been beaten up on the spot.
To the fans, this kind of behavior bordered on provocation.
But whatever—at least they'd scored.
Mlinar was in a great mood.
Who would've thought that their struggling second-division team would be the first to score against a top-tier side?
And the goal was absolute perfection.
Meanwhile, over on Zrinjski Mostar's bench, Coach Van Stuyack tucked his notebook into his chest pocket.
Looking at his dejected substitutes on the field, he revealed a hint of disappointment and softly said, "Modrić, Kosović—get ready to go on. It's time to end this farce."
The two players silently rose to their feet.
At the 75th minute, Zrinjski made their substitutions.
With two main players entering, their morale got a noticeable lift.
Especially after Modrić took to the field—suddenly, their chaotic rhythm was gone, and their midfield passes became orderly and structured.
And from that moment on, Suke never received another pass.
He even had to drop back to midfield to get the ball, but it was useless.
On the other side, the top-league striker Kosović overwhelmed the Wanderer's defense with near-unstoppable force.
With continuous crosses from the wings and Modrić's long-range shots, they managed to equalize the score within 10 minutes.
By the 88th minute, Modrić launched a powerful shot that exposed goalkeeper Bakić's leaky hands. After he failed to catch the ball, Kosović used his physicality to secure position and scored off the rebound, completing the comeback.
That goal re-energized the Zrinjski fans. Their previous frustration vanished, and the stadium came alive again.
The fans were ecstatic. But Suke was frustrated.
It wasn't about the card-draw rewards—he could earn those just by playing—but who likes losing?
Sukoewas stubborn and hated to lose.
So in the final moments, he didn't give up. But with his teammates exhausted and barely able to run, he had no way to turn things around.
In the end, they lost.
2002/2003 Bosnia and Herzegovina Cup:Zrinjski Mostar 2:1 Mostar Wanderer
The Stray Dogs had played an impressive game.
But they clearly ran out of steam in the second half, and when Modrić and Kosović came on, it was game over.
"Ahhh… I'm exhausted!"
Suke lay flat on the ground, gazing at the drifting clouds overhead.
"The sky is so blue…" he whispered.
They had lost, and he had to accept it.
He had hoped to make a bold impression on Zrinjski with this match and maybe earn a transfer.
But they'd lost in the end.
Lying there with the breeze brushing his face, Suke took it all in quietly.
This was the home stadium of a top-tier Bosnian team. He had come so close to becoming part of it.
Sigh…
He shook his head and opened his eyes—only to see a large face looming over him.
A man with short blond hair, dressed in a tracksuit, with deep-set eyes and piercing blue pupils—someone Suke recognized.
Coach Van Stoyack looked down at him. This little guy had sprinted for a full 90 minutes.
It was hard to imagine how much stamina he really had.
Suko quickly scrambled to his feet, recognizing who it was.
He was confused.
Van Stoyack gave him a once-over and said, "When you get home, ice your legs. Don't eat too much dinner—you might throw up."
After a pause, he added, "And don't forget to stretch. If you don't stretch properly, you won't grow."
Suke looked at him, puzzled.
Van Stoyack nodded and said, "That's it. See you in a few days."
"Huh?" Suke was stunned—then his eyes went wide.
See you in a few days?Suke suddenly jumped up.
"YES!!!"
Van Stoyack glanced back at the boy bouncing up and down and shook his head with a smile. "What stamina…"
But as he turned away, his expression darkened like a thundercloud.
Two weeks had passed since the Bosnia Cup match.
For Suke, those two weeks dragged on like years. The coach had promised to "see you in a few days," but still—nothing.
So, how many days is "a few"?
Suke was growing increasingly anxious. This was his shot at the top league!
Van Stoyack wouldn't joke about something like this, would he?
Over the past two weeks, Suke had lost his appetite and couldn't sleep. He constantly waited for the coach to come find him.
He was even worried Van Stoyack didn't know where he lived, so he kept hanging out near Zrinjski's training ground. If it weren't for security, he might have marched in to ask directly:
"What's the coach so busy with? It's been days—did he forget about me?"
Suke sat on the grass, sulking. Modrić juggled a ball nearby.
Seeing Suke's miserable face, Modrić laughed. "It should be soon. He's just dealing with some trouble."
"Trouble?" Suke frowned. "Don't tell me he's getting fired because of that match?"
Even though Zrinjski eventually won the Bosnia Cup game, it wasn't a convincing win. They'd nearly lost to a second-tier team.
If Modrić and Kosović hadn't turned things around, it could've been a very different story.
That thought only made Suke more conflicted.
Had he almost gotten the coach who wanted to sign him fired?
Modrić shrugged. "Almost, but not quite. The fans weren't happy, but the club still supports him. So just wait—it won't be much longer."
After a pause, Modrić added, "That Russian striker transferred out."
Suke's eyes lit up—were they clearing a spot for him?
That news eased his anxiety a little.
"Guess I'll just have to wait. Not much else I can do," he said, then asked, "By the way, how's the team doing in the league?"
Modrić gave him a side-eye.
You're not even on the team yet, you know.
But he still answered: "One win, one draw, one loss. We lost 1-2 to Sarajevo last week."
"Again with Sarajevo? Why do we always lose to them?" Suke grimaced.
Zrinjski usually did well in the league, but they seemed to fall apart against Sarajevo every time.
Modrić shrugged. "They figured us out tactically. Our scoring relies heavily on Kosović, but their two center-backs are both over 190 cm and built like tanks. Kosović can't do much against them. And our wingers are sacrificed in the current system—we can't let them shine while still supporting Kosović."
He paused and added, "So yeah, don't worry. The coach will come for you soon. We need a change in tactics, and you are that change. The training sessions lately have focused on strengthening the wings and using a dropping striker—it's all prep work."
Suke nodded, then asked, "What's your weekly wage?"
"Mine?" Modrić replied, "1,500 marks a week."
Suke noted it mentally.
He knew he couldn't expect that much—Modrić was a prodigy, after all.
Suke wasn't picky about salary. What he wanted was playing time.
Even 500 marks a week would be enough.
That would cover his basic living costs. And Zrinjski also provided meals and housing.
Suke smiled—finally, no more skipping meals.
All he had to do now… was wait for the call.